


“It’s six o’clock in the morning"

by evakuality



Series: tumblr dialogue prompts [15]
Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: M/M, mostly fluffy, some non-graphic mentions of alcohol-related illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 12:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21054620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evakuality/pseuds/evakuality
Summary: It’s six o’clock in the morning and David feels like shit.  There’s a sort of foggy haze hanging over him as he lies on top of the bed.  The room is slowly spinning and he’s feeling slightly queasy as he stares up at the ceiling, trying to focus on one specific point.  He’s not sure if that queasiness is the result of the beer and weed he’s been indulging in all night, or if it’s because his body is not used to still being awake at these sorts of hours.Either way, he wants it to stop.





	“It’s six o’clock in the morning"

It’s six o’clock in the morning and David feels like shit. There’s a sort of foggy haze hanging over him as he lies on top of the bed. The room is slowly spinning and he’s feeling slightly queasy as he stares up at the ceiling, trying to focus on one specific point. He’s not sure if that queasiness is the result of the beer and weed he’s been indulging in all night, or if it’s because his body is not used to still being awake at these sorts of hours.

Either way, he wants it to stop. Matteo is lying beside him, groaning out his own displeasure. David glances sideways, wincing as his head spikes with pain. Probably the beer and weed then, he thinks irrelevantly. Matteo looks a little pale, paler than usual, and David reaches out one hand to rest against his cheek.

It feels cool to the touch, slightly clammy, and David’s pretty sure that’s not a good sign. But he doesn’t have the energy to roll over and take a proper look. Instead, his eyes move back so he’s lying staring at the ceiling again waiting for the room to still. It takes forever.

“I’m so thirsty,” Matteo mumbles beside him. “Can you get me a drink? I think there’s some vodka left from the party.”

David chuckles, but instantly regrets it when pain slices through his head again. “It’s six o’clock in the morning,” he says carefully, trying not to disturb his head because every time he does it sends waves of sickness to his stomach. “You’re not having vodka.”

The noise Matteo makes then is something close to a whine, but doesn’t quite get there because he, too, is probably too listless to make the effort to complain properly. “Haven’t you heard of ‘hair of the dog’?”

“It’s a lie, Matteo. It only makes it worse in the long run.”

Matteo chuckles, and when David turns to look at him this time, his cheeks have more colour in them and he looks minisculely more energised. “Not if I keep doing it.”

Rolling his eyes was a mistake, David realises as he does it. Somehow, Matteo seems better off than he does and that’s not fair. He feels like doing some whining of his own, but with superhuman effort (or, really, because he just doesn’t have the energy to actually carry through) David stops himself. 

“It’s six o’clock in the morning,” David says again. He manages to turn so he can look at Matteo. “I should be asleep, but my head hurts.”

Okay, so maybe he’s doing a tiny bit of whining. That’s allowed. Because his head really fucking hurts and he’s not used to it and Matteo is actually sitting up now. Which is just blatantly unfair. Asshole even had more than david and he’s coping better? Discrimination!

“You could have some vodka,” Matteo suggests smugly. “That’d stop your head from hurting.”

He slides off the bed in a slow, careful way that suggests he is still feeling some after effects, but yet he’s actually capable of moving and being actually moderately functional. David wonders how he does it. 

Matteo is scrabbling around in one of his drawers, and finally pulls something out with a loud crowing, “yesssss.” 

David thinks, for a moment, that he’s got hold of more weed and he’s close to groaning over it but then he sees the brightly coloured wrapper and hears the soft crackle of the plastic. He grins.

“Do you really need all that candy?” he asks, pushing himself up onto his elbow. His stomach gives a lurch but everything stays where it’s supposed to, which David counts as a win. 

“Yes,” Matteo says, waving it at him. “Since you won’t let me have any vodka, I need something else to make me feel better.”

He rips into the package, scattering small pieces everywhere and making David laugh. He knows Matteo is at least partly doing this to distract David from his head, and he’s grateful for it. 

“I can think of better ways to make you feel better,” he says, lying down again and holding out his arms invitingly.

Matteo crawls back onto the bed and flops down next to him, still with far too much energy in David’s opinion. It jiggles him, and the delicate agreement he has with his stomach is severely threatened by the jolting movements. When David opens his mouth to complain, Matteo drops one of the pieces of candy into it, making him snap it shut in surprise.

“Ass,” he manages, when he’s chewed and swallowed. “I could have choked on that!”

Matteo curls up into a ball in the space David has created with his arms and hums contentedly. “I’d save you,” he says quietly. 

The tone has shifted, just like that. David always marvels at the way Matteo can do that, move from playful and silly to soft and warm and loving in the blink of an eye. It always calms him too. He sighs, his head still pounding, but feeling better just from having Matteo close by like this. His stomach has settled a little. He doesn’t want to admit that maybe the small burst of sweetness helped with that, so he just presses a kiss to Matteo’s forehead and watches as his eyes slip closed and his breathing evens out.

It also fascinates David how Matteo can do that, too. How he can drop into sleep almost instantly. Of course, the fact that it’s six o’clock in the fucking morning may have something to do with that. The candy packet slips out of his loosened grasp and the candy starts to spill again. David knows he should care, knows they’re going to have a huge mess to sort out when they wake again, but right now he can’t bring himself to care. 

It’s six o’clock in the morning. His head hurts and his stomach is still roiling if he moves in the wrong way. It’s six o’clock in the morning and when they wake, there’s definitely going to be some reckoning to do what with spilled candy and heaving stomachs and likely a destroyed apartment. It’s six o’clock in the morning and he should feel like shit. 

But because Matteo is here, curled up into him, it’s six o’clock in the morning, and David feels happy.


End file.
